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Tag Archives: Depression

So, another negative thing happened to me, one of those I couldn’t predict or control and the first inevitable question has been: “Why do bad things keep happening to me?” and after venting with my irreplaceable friends, I tried to react. Nothing is working at the moment, here’s how I debunked every possible solution given to this question.

Even in the worst, there’s some good waiting for you. I tried to list down what’s good and what’s wrong in my life, I tried to ignore that the negative list is way longer and easier to be filled, but honestly, the glad game didn’t work. Because bad things are still there, unsolved, no matter how many things I’m grateful for are written in the other column.

Write down your history, analyse it, once you find the wrong patterns, you can begin to change your life. I could write an entire book, the problem still is: I have health problems who lead me to mental illness and don’t allow to have a proper job in order to earn the money I need to cure myself and get rid of an abusive relationship. The picture i very clear, how can I change the colour palette? Next.

Bad things happen to everyone. That’s the polite version of the sentence “others have it worse”. Given that it would be sadistic to feel better thinking about to those who are having a worse time, it doesn’t change the fact I’m in pain. Or doesn’t solve my problems, it may only help me to develop a positive attitude or to be more concerned about others.

You are responsible of everything that it’s showing up in your life, flip your way of thinking and it’s going to get better. This is bullshit, well, mostly. It could work when you’re griefing for the end of a relationship, or because what happens depends on your bad habits. You’re entitled to change your life and a positive mindset will be surely helpful. But this doesn’t work when you’re given to diseases, no way. I could face them better, but I won’t heal. I could be the best fighter and I can assure you I’m not sitting down here all day being a cry baby, but things only get worse.

There are things that can’t be changed, only faced, but I’m tired of fighting, really. Why me? And don’t tell me that life (or God, it depends on your belief) is giving me burdens I can bear, because I’m not that strong, really.

I can’t call myself a real fan of Linkin Park, I just loved their songs and be grateful to them because they introduced me to nu metal; then I started listening to Korn and POD and many others. I have a playlist on Spotify with the most meaningful songs of my life, among the many beautiful ones of Linkin Park, I chose “Crawling” because it has always touched me emotionally. How many times I’ve listened to it, curled up in my bed, crying. I added another one today, from the band’s last album, that is “One more light”; I find it devastating, all the lyrics of last album are shattering if carefully listened after Chester’s passing.

“Who cares if one more light goes out?
In a sky of a million stars
It flickers, flickers
Who cares when someone’s time runs out?
If a moment is all we are
We’re quicker, quicker
Who cares if one more light goes out?
Well I do”

Goosebumps.

Many things have been written about Chester Bennington, the most heartfelt came from fans and colleagues, personally JD’s glistening eyes while talking about how much his songs influenced him and inspired him to make music, were more meaningful than a billion of empty words.

Media seized the moment to talk about mental illness, depression and how it’s important to ask for help. For sure: opening up to someone, therapy and meds works, but let me be brutally sincere: not all depressions can be cured. Not if you’re a grown up person who realised the real entity of their problem, if you’re trapped in a dark tunnel with no exit. Looking for help may help if you’re a young person who can still change their life, not if you’re Chester or Chris or someone like me. I know that depression will be on my side, I have good days, even excellent moments, but I know she’s always with me, ready to devour my sanity when I feel sick, hopeless, ignored or simply down.

Another thing. A real depressed person barely shows it or talk about it: look at Chester’s pics on his Twitter, read what he said about his new album or about his life (“I have such a lust for life now, such a positive outlook” he said). He looks happy and passionate, he loved his family, job and fans.

I’m wondering what Chester was thinking when he wrote his farewell letter to his friend Chris Cornwell, if the sentence “I pray you find peace in the next life” was something he hoped for himself.

When I think my life has reached its lowest point, here it comes something that makes it worse. I try not to indulge in sadness (even if lately I’m hooked up to bands like BMTH) and I always look for the light. But it’s tiring, unfair, because the first selfish thought is always “why me?”, what did I do to deserve all this?”

Even looking at my magic paper with the uplifting lyrics “Every day, every hour, turn the pain into power” seems not to work, because the only thing I can think about is that I don’t have the money to get these words inked as I planned.

I read a lot of motivational articles, but they don’t work, because in the end I think they’re just a bunch of nice words which don’t lead anywhere and some of them are bullshit. A positive attitude helps for sure, but it doesn’t solve. It doesn’t heal illness, doesn’t give you money, doesn’t protect your kids. In my opinion there’s no shame in feeling hopeless, sad or depressed: faking happiness may be most dangerous than feeling sad, because it kills you inside. Faking a strength we don’t have or believing in a hope we don’t have, is the hardest thing ever.

I’m not celebrating depression: I know it’s a horrible monster able to turn me in an insensible creature, a mean stepmother that feeds me with negative stuff and makes me say that I’d preferred to be dead at a concert or when I was on holiday because I was dead happy. It’s terrible, I know, but I have to die anyway and London Bridge is way better than a sad hospital bed.

It is said that when it feels like the end, it’s often a new beginning. I hope it’s true because at the moment I can only think that what doesn’t kill me makes me wish I was dead instead of making me stronger.

Ps. I’m sorry if I’m so slave to my mood and if my posts don’t have any logic. This is how I feel right now, but talking to a friend or a walk or a random act of kindness or JD, can change it at any moment. Don’t worry, I’m just venting.

Let’s be honest, sentences like “money doesn’t count” are sensible when you have enough of it to live and you don’t have to struggle to pay bills or say no to everything you like because you can’t afford it. Of course: family and friends are more important than money, I always say that I’m a millionaire if I look at the friends I have, but even if they’re beyond important with their support and love, it doesn’t bring food on my table.

My life was already bad due to health, now it’s going to get worse, because in two years my family will lose its fix income and all my ideas of earning money working from home, crashed against stupid Italian internal revenue system, according to which you need a VAT for everything and have to pay a fix tax even if you don’t earn nothing. (I still doing researches about home based jobs because I need something I can manage according to bad and good health days).

In the blink of an eye all the things I’ve built, planned, worked hard for, are going to disappear due to economical interests that thinks that a factory that is not productive enough, has to been shut down, no matter how many family this will affect.

Pope Francis recently said that closing factories and businesses and taking work (and dignity) away from men and women is a grave sin. If there’s a life after that, they will probably pay for that, but at the moment we are those who are having a living Hell on Earth. Words are uplifting, but aren’t enough.

The sad thing is that I sacrificed my happiness, dignity and self esteem for stability. I chose an abusive but stable relationship over a happier, but uncertain one. And now? Now all is gone. I’m starting having anxiety attacks and depression is stronger than ever. I tried, but never be able to commit suicide because of my loving one, at the moment, the only thing that stops me is the fear to fail, believe me, killing yourself is not as easy as you think and there’s a lot of things that can go wrong.

I wrote these last lines not because I’m an attention whore who needs pity and nice words, it’s a self reminding of how strong I am. Next post will be different and more useful, I promise: I have so many things to say and I will run this blog until I can afford internet connection.

I would say to those who lost their job to stay strong, to use this experience to start a new life, to be positive, but these are words that you can find on life coaches blogs. People who have money and don’t have to look into their children eyes telling them “I’m sorry, we can’t buy this”. I’m only a broken creature with no magic spell who’s trying to see the light even in the darkest times. Someone wrote that I’m a fighter through the fire: I should wear off my cape of self commiseration and take my sword.

My laptop suddenly died with a lot of unsaved stuff in it and I’m currently writing on a borrowed computer which is probably power supplied by dinosaurs, but as it’s said: it’s better than nothing.

It has probably been a good thing for you all, since I had a terrible time, suffering chronic pain, frustration and an insane amount of emotional abuse. It hasn’t got better to be honest, but my wingless angels from this side and from the opposite side of the pond, supported me and both told and demonstrated me that I’m worth loving. Whenever I feel like complaining about how it’s always raining on me, I should remember that I have big umbrellas, some of them are even limited edition. And JD, well, JD always plays a big part in my happiness; I even finally found the answer to the question “Describe him in two words”. I’ve never been able to choose among his infinite qualities, but now I know how to portray him: “nothing compares”.

I read a lot of books as usual, I indulged in Sylvia Plath’s works and that’s something I should avoid, above all when I’m depressed, if I don’t want to end with the head in the oven like her without having written anything notable.

I thought a lot about death lately, suicide, of course, but also about what happens to our beloved stuff once we die. I was in a thrift shop where a friend of mine volunteers and a woman came with a garbage bag full of collectibles, knick-knack and books, saying that her mom died, so she had to make space in the house. I looked at the object thinking about which sentimental value they may had for their owner. We only see a little value decorative item, but maybe it was a present of an ancient lover, the souvenir of a long desired journey, the memory of a funny trip. And it’s sad to think that one day my kids will do the same; they will put my beloved books, my cherished vinyls, my precious signed CD and all my stuff in a black trash bag and bring it to a thrift shop or throw it into the bin.

So, in case someone will put their hands on the drumsticks JD gave to me, please, treasure them, not only because they’re the only pair used for Heartless video, but because they’re my magic wands: I hold them whenever I feel shit and my mood changes because they say “you’re loved!”. They mean more than what they are, love them as I did. Thanks.

I know that the story behind the tube announcement would be more interesting than what I’m going to post, but it’s a bad health day, so my mood goes along with my pain.

(but in case you’re interested in the story of Mrs.Margaret McCollum who goes to Embankment station just to hear the voice of her deceased husband who recorded the Mind the gap message in 1965, here’s the video: https://vimeo.com/103459634).

When we talk about dreams and desires, the most often heard sentences are “stop wishing, start acting” or “you’re not a tree: if you don’t like where you are, move” as if any dream we are chasing would be easy to be fulfilled just by working for it. That’s wise and sensible, but quite utopian.

What if your body is fighting against you, so you can’t get a proper work and earn the money you need to move to another country? What if you’re too old for the person you like? There’s no time machine, I’m sorry. And no, good will, a positive attitude, an optimistic view aren’t enough against objective difficulties. There are obstacles that can’t be overcame, no matter how hard you work for your dream. And this frustration and sense of impotence goes along with depression in a never ending cycle.

I will be very glad to fulfil all my wishes, I just need an healthier body. While waiting I must pay attention to the gap between what I dream and my life, I don’t want to get crushed.

I’ve been thinking a lot about suicide lately and that’s positive because the people who can think about it in a lucid and analytic way, are those who will never commit. I made a couple of attempt when I was younger, for problems that, in the end, had a solution, not like now where I’m struggling against an invisible enemy. I’m without a clear diagnosis and a working cure, alone with a new pain or disease everyday. I’m ready to fight, I’m a tough warrior, but I’d like to know what I’m fighting against.

I try to focus on the positive things left in my life (honestly thinking to those who have a worse situation doesn’t work and it also makes me feel guilty), but sometimes pain and deception wins. So I feel tired to ask myself if tomorrow will be a good or a bad day, to cancel plans, can’t be sure of anything, of being called lazy or that it’s everything in my head. Then the dark cloud approaches and I can’t help thinking that my family will be better without me. I feel useful and a waste of time and even if I struggle not to let my disease to define who I am, there’s no doubt it’s silently deleting my life, my positive thoughts, the goals I want to set.

I read an Italian book “La Casa Blu” about the will to find a more decent way to pass over than let people finding you hung somewhere or crashed downstairs. I found this sentence I related to “today I’m too tired to live and to live, hope tomorrow is a better day”

Hope. There’s still hope, even in the darkest situation and I’m going to use it as a rope to escape this well of pain. So, come on girl, put some music on, wear your invisible superhero cape and kick this day in the ass. Remember to turn the pain into power and that tomorrow is JD’s birthday.

Ps. I wrote a fanfic about love and suicide: its title is “The Reasons Why”, maybe one of my best piece of writing.